


Where the Heart Lies

by Lynnwood



Series: Adoribull Drabbles [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian being a magic BAMF, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynnwood/pseuds/Lynnwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wilds of the Forbidden Oasis, it takes a terrible scare for Dorian to realize just what IS really 'going on' exactly, between him and the Iron Bull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Heart Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Another Adoribull one-shot. This one came to me much easier than my previous attempt. It came out a little angstier than I'd originally intended, but hopefully not to the tale's detriment. Read on and enjoy!

Dorian let out a somewhat pitiable groan at the sight of yet another series of wooden platforms before them.

“If I never see another ladder I will die a happy, _happy_ man.”

Karaas Adaar just shook his head slightly, apparently caught somewhere between amusement and sympathy. The large qunari warrior clapped him on the shoulder in way of appeasement as he passed by, jumping up past the first few rungs on the ladder and then beginning to climb up in earnest. With far more ease and energy than was seemly, in Dorian’s opinion.

“Could be worse, Sparkler,” Varric chuckled as he too walked past the sulking mage and started up the ladder. “You could be a dwarf. Witty charm and dashing good looks aside,” the smaller man huffed, “we’re not a people known for our climbing skills.”

“Yes, quite,” Dorian agreed somewhat sourly. “Though you must admit I would make an incredibly handsome one. Just think of the _beard_ , Varric! It would be the stuff of legends!”

A deep, rolling chuckle from behind him was Dorian’s only warning before a large palm suddenly swatted him in the rear, hard. Hard enough to propel him forward half a step. Face reddening with embarrassment, anger—and something else not to be shared in mixed company—Dorian whirled around to fix his insufferable lover with a narrow-eyed glare. The Iron Bull just grinned fearlessly under the onslaught, nodding his great horned head toward the platforms instead.

“Stop stalling and get a move on, _kadan,”_ he rumbled. That deep voice of Bull’s could do wonderful, terrible things to his libido and peace of mind and the blighted bastard knew it too. Though at the moment Dorian’s annoyance was enough to bypass most of the usual smutty reaction. Especially since the former spy had—of course—found him out so effortlessly. He _had_ been stalling. Instead of give him the satisfaction though, the Tevinter-born mage finally stomped over to the ladder and began to climb.

“Just who in their right mind decided _ladders_ was the best method of getting around in this gods forsaken oasis I’d like to know,” Dorian continued to grumble, probably from sheer force of habit. Bull had teased him once that Dorian talked so much because he liked to hear the sound of his own voice. Much like everything else, the qunari was probably right.

“Stop pouting, ‘vint,” the warrior laughed from below as he too started upward. Once upon a time the moniker might have been derogatory, but now it was more of an endearment. Much like the mysterious Qunlat ‘kadan’ that he _still_ hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask the meaning of. “Just think of what all this climbing is doing for that sweet ass of yours.”

Dorian scoffed. “My ass is utter perfection already,” he insisted haughtily, “and well you know it.”

Bull just laughed at that, echoed by Varric somewhere above him. Most notably though, the qunari didn’t disagree with him either. Dorian tried not to feel smug. And failed. He _did_ have a wonderful ass, after all.

Several hours and an infuriatingly large amount of ladders and tunnels later and the group finally stepped out into a sun-dappled clearing. A rather pretty oasis of sorts in the middle of the desert, a huge waterfall above thundering down into a sizable pool below. A beautiful and idyllic scene if not for the huge tusked giant that suddenly lumbered into view from around a large stone outcropping. Dorian cursed in Tevene as he snatched his staff from its sling, falling back with Varric while Karaas and Bull charged forward.

Well, Scout Harding _had_ warned them not to get stepped on. One of these days they’d learn to take the scout at her word.

The giant let out a roar of sorts, stomping toward the two qunari warriors who’d done a marvelous job of getting all of its attention. The Inquisitor took the brunt of it, his massive shield slamming hard into a gigantic kneecap, spinning deftly and avoiding the giant’s clumsy swipe and using the momentum to drive his mace that much harder into the vulnerable calcaneal tendon. Meanwhile Bull went for the other leg, his great axe biting deep into the thigh muscle. Varric leapt up onto a near-by boulder for leverage, a barrage of bolts whistling free from his trusted Bianca in a matter of seconds to pepper up the giant’s entire left flank.

Dorian managed to place a barrier spell over the two warriors before the giant could get in any good hits or kicks. Then his staff came alive in his hands, spinning, twirling and lashing out around him in a series of complicated battle maneuvers the mage had long ago perfected. The Fade crackled around him, pure raw energy dancing along his every nerve-ending. At every precise break in movement a ball of violet energy shot like a qunari canon-blast straight into the giant’s unprotected middle. It wasn’t long before the acrid smell of singed flesh and hair and burnt ozone filled the small canyon.

The giant suddenly stumbled, hitting one knee. Months of fighting together helped Iron Bull and Karaas move in perfect tandem. The shield-bearer smashed the giant’s face to the side, averting it’s huge tusks while Bull spun into the vulnerable space left behind. His battle-axe bit deep into the neck and shoulder with a sickening wet _crunch_ and a fountain of crimson. The giant roared in pain and fury, then suddenly reared back. The axe was no doubt lodged in bone as well as dense muscle and the force of the giant’s thrash managed to wrench the handle out of Bull’s grasp entirely. He didn’t have time to be properly concerned about being suddenly defenseless, though. In the next breath a wildly aimed sweep of its arm managed to catch both of the qunari warriors unprepared, throwing them aside as easily as one might toss a couple of straw dolls. Adaar flew straight back into the water, tumbling end over end before coming to stop in a faintly groaning heap.

The Iron Bull however slammed to the side into the near-by rock face with all the deadly force of a charging druffalo. His body made a sickening thump before falling to the ground afterward. He didn’t sit up then, didn’t stir, didn’t even make a sound. Just a horrible, horrible stillness and quiet that suddenly filled Dorian’s entire being with cold, icy dread.

Dorian’s throat seized shut. It was somewhat of a miracle, then, that any sound managed to escape him at all, but it did. In the form of a shrill, panicked scream.

“Bull! _Noooo!”_

Varric leapt from his perch and hurried over to the Inquisitor—who was closest to him— kneeling down with a hand out and helping the other man sit up out of the water. Dorian only had eyes for Bull, though, and for the giant who was lumbering toward the fallen qunari. Was this how it was to end, then? The Iron Bull had been infallible, unwavering, a rock of surety and strength. Nothing could defeat him. Not Corypheus, not Red Templars, not Venatori, not losing his role in the Qun, not sacrificing everything familiar for the sake of ‘his boys,’ certainly not those damned dragons the blighted fool insisted on chasing after like a child after a sweet treat.

Not even Dorian Pavus, Altus mage and scion of his House, could stand against him. The Iron Bull had set out to ‘conquer’ him and that’s exactly what he’d done. Not with brute strength or unfeeling force as the mage had half expected, no. He’d done it with aching gentleness, knowing smiles, soft teasing and wicked, wicked hands. Huge hands that could break him so easily, so effortlessly, and instead they’d held him close and put him back together. All the while that deep, rumbling voice had whispered to him in the dark, melting into all the secret, desperate, hidden places. The mage knew he’d never get the Bull back out of him again, part of him even accepted that he’d probably never even want to. And now . . . . Maker he had finally found some measure of peace and happiness and now he was going to lose it all? He’d never even gotten the chance to tell Bull how much he . . . .

Dorian’s eyes narrowed to slits—ignoring the desperate tears that had flooded them. The air around him grew eerily still and quiet, broken only by an occasional buzzing snap. Along the ground, tiny flashes of violet light began to dance to and fro. The giant, oblivious, took another threateningly lumbering step toward the fallen qunari. Dorian’s lip curled into a silent snarl in response.

“No.” A low, trembling growl of denial. Varric took one look at the bolts of lightning now skittering and snapping around the enraged mage like dancing fireflies and blanched.

“Shit!” he hissed, giving a still-groggy Adaar’s arm a helpful yank. “Time to get out of the water, Inquisitor! Before Sparkler lights us both up like an Antivan firecracker!”

Realizing the danger, both men managed to get to their feet and stumble out of the shallow pool just in time to avoid disaster. The giant took one more step toward a fallen Bull, and it was his last.

_“No!”_

Dorian’s furious scream was punctuated by the massive bolt of lightning that launched from his outstretched arms. It struck the Bull’s axe—still lodged into the giant’s torso—like a homing rod, then up into the otherwise clear sky with a thunderous boom. The noise drowned out the giant’s agonized roar as its massive body twitched and jerked for a moment. Then it crumpled to the ground, a massive chunk of flesh missing where the axe had been and leaving only a smoking, charred crater in its wake.

The axe itself was now lodged into the rock face some distance away, it’s dawnstone blade pulsing white with heat.

Dorian barely spared a glance for the dead giant or his two other companions who were staring at him somewhat in awe. He ran to the crumpled form of the Bull instead, his last few steps faltering until he hit his knees nearby. He stared at the massive qunari’s still form, suddenly unable to bring himself to touch him. To have to confirm what his eyes were telling him. To accept that it was all gone.

“Bull?” he heard someone whimper, voice strangled and so utterly foreign to his ears that Dorian couldn’t even believe that it was himself who’d spoken.

And then the Bull suddenly let out a massive, pain-filled groan and cracked open his eye. The silver-gray orb peered up at Dorian’s baffled face somewhat blearily. After a moment or two, his scarred mouth pulled into a lop-sided attempt at a grin.

“Did we win?”

Dorian’s whole body started to shake, a heady mix of shock, relief and fury all chasing themselves around in his bloodstream to the point he could barely think.

Barely, but not quite.

Iron Bull let out a pained yelp when the mage’s staff cracked him across the chest with a loud _‘thump!’_

“Ow!” the qunari protested, putting up his hands to ward away any other blows that might follow, though none came. “What the hell was _that_ for?” he demanded afterward, tone and expression almost humorously wounded but Dorian was immune to them. Instead the mage shot to his feet, wobbling only a little from the way his legs were still shaking.

“For scaring me _half to death_ you stupid, barbaric buffoon!” he snarled, his own voice cracking with emotion. Bull’s face melted more into concerned confusion at the sound but Dorian couldn’t face that right now. He was feeling too raw, too exposed. Still far too terrified.

He’d almost lost the Bull. And in so doing, he’d suddenly been made to realize just how much that meant to him. How much _Bull_ meant to him. It was incredible and terrifying and far too much to deal with at the moment. So Dorian gave the qunari a half-hearted kick in the thigh instead before turning and stomping away.

It was to find Varric and Karaas staring at him with matching owl-blink expressions. When the dwarf started to smile Dorian hissed.

“Not a word, dwarf! _Not a word!”_

“Seriously,” Bull continued to whine while Dorian started marching his way in the direction of the camp site they’d originally intended to find. “What the fuck did I miss?! And . . . why is my axe way the hell up _there?!”_

 

* * *

 

Hours later and Dorian still couldn’t shake the uneasiness that filled him. He sat some distance away from the others at camp, arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees and watching the water below without really seeing much.

 _When did everything get so far out of hand?_ he wondered to himself somewhat bitterly. It was only supposed to be a pleasant distraction. A bit of light-hearted fun, no strings attached, friendly fucking to pass the time. Dorian had thought he’d be fine with that. After all, it was all he’d ever known—hasty meetings in dark and secluded corners, hurried affairs and even more hasty withdrawals afterward. When had _this_ become more than that?

When had the Tevinter mage gone and done the stupidest, most ill-conceived, impossible thing imaginable and fallen head over heels in love with a qunari mercenary? Of all the people he could have fallen for, it _had_ to be the Bull. Bull wouldn’t know what to do with love if it slapped him in his big, stupid, adorable face. He was born under the Qun, lived most of his life by its rules. From his own admission, his people didn’t believe in such petty concepts as personal relationships. The Qunari didn’t have sex for love. Dorian had tumbled head-first into an unrequited infatuation and it was all so utterly laughable that he suddenly wanted to cry.

Unfortunately falling apart properly would require a certain degree of privacy in order to maintain at least _some_ small shred of his dignity. And privacy wasn’t a luxury one had while traveling the wilds. A fact Dorian was suddenly reminded of when a huge shadow suddenly fell over him from behind.

“You ready to tell me what the hell crawled up your ass yet, Dorian?” Bull demanded, voice low. Soft with caution but firm with exasperated annoyance at the same time. It managed to fuel his own anger enough that the mage was able to shove the lance of pain in his chest deep. Hidden away to pull out and mope over another day.

“Haven’t you heard?” he quipped, voice dry and brittle. “My arse is the repository of a never-ending supply of arrows. Just ask Sera, she’ll tell you.”

There was a beat or two of silence but Dorian refused to turn around and meet what was no doubt a heavily disapproving stare. “Dorian, I’m _fine,”_ he suddenly murmured. Full of that damned gentle understanding that suddenly made Dorian want to claw his remaining eye out with his bare hands. “I’ve taken hits bigger than that before, _kadan._ I can take the abuse. I’m built for it, trust me.”

“Thank you for the clarification,” he ground out, fingers tightening their hold around his biceps. “Now if you don’t mind I’d rather be left alone.”

Bull never forced him to do something he didn’t want to. He was very particular about that rule, even had a watchword and sternly made sure Dorian remembered it before they ever did anything even remotely untoward. _Every_ time. That was probably why it was such a shock then when Bull’s answer to his clear-cut demand was a growly, “No.”

The mage turned to him at last, at that, eyes widened a little. It was to find Bull staring down at him with an expression somewhere between frustration and confusion, but the arms crossed over his massive chest and the stubborn lift of his chin stated quite clearly he wasn’t going anywhere until he had a satisfactory answer. The mage shot to his feet, restless.

“I’m fine! You’re fine! Everybody’s fine!” Dorian growled. “There, happy now?”

“No.”

He scoffed. “Well, too bad—,”

“Dorian—,”

“Would you just—,”

“Not until you tell me what’s bothering—,”

“Dammit Bull, _leave it be!”_

In a last ditch effort Bull suddenly turned toward the other two of their group, who were sitting some distance away eating a bowl of stew and pretending not to be listening to every word that was being spoken. “Boss!” he yelled desperately.

Karaas looked up from his bowl, blinking with an exaggerated expression of innocence. “What? Hm-m? Oh! No,” he suddenly answered himself, shaking his head vigorously and turning back to his bowl. “No, no, no, no. I’m _not_ getting in the middle of that. Not for all the gold in Thedas.”

Varric chuckled. “Smart man. _Excellent_ policy Your Inquisitorialness. Though . . . that does remind me . . . have I ever told you the story about the Copper Marigolds?” Adaar glanced at his dwarven companion, eyebrows lifted.

“Copper—what?”

“Oh this is a good one, trust me.” Varric grinned, getting more comfortable on his fallen log perch and clearly preparing to launch into one of his infamous tales. “So, no shit. There I was, traipsing up and down the Wounded Coast in the dead of night with Hawke, the Rivaini and Broody. All of us doing our damndest not to trip over bandits and mabari Dog Lords while Hawke is playing _match-maker_ for the Kirkwall Guard . . . .”

Dorian tuned out the dwarf, turning and walking away from the camp, snatching up his staff at the last minute as his only precaution against further dangers. Not that it would help with the massive qunari shadow that followed him every step of the way. Dorian’s gut twisted with something akin to terror, but he firmed his shoulders and walked on. It seemed Bull wasn’t going to leave it alone. He wanted an answer and wasn’t going to stop until he had it. So be it.

Whether by death or horridly embarrassing confessions, the fates had decided that Dorian was to end the day alone once more. Might as well just get this the hell over with and move on. Like ripping off a stuck bandage, best to do it quickly.

When they neared the oasis pool again, Bull suddenly reached out and caught Dorian’s arm just above the elbow to stop his movement, but no more than that. His huge hand nearly encompassed his bicep and Dorian wasn’t scrawny by any stretch. One of the things that attracted him so much to the big brute, if he were honest. Dorian wasn’t a small man, but Bull made him feel like it. Small . . . but safe.

 _Venhedis_ , he’d never felt truly safe before in his entire life . . . not until Bull. How was he supposed to go back to what he’d been before?

The grip on his arm slowly made the mage turn toward him, but Dorian refused to lift his gaze from his own eye-level. Staring stubbornly at the huge silver chest instead, striped with so many scars it would be impossible to count them all—though he’d tried more than once. Stubbornly ignoring the tears that blurred his vision, and eventually started leaking down the sides of his face.

“Dorian,” Bull suddenly murmured, a strange sort of ache in his voice. Dorian tensed a little when Bull suddenly cupped his face in his hands, bent at the waist and then his forehead thunked gently against his own. His good eye was closed, and the expression on his face was something like . . . pain. _“Kadan,”_ he breathed, _“talk to me.”_

“. . . this is all your fault,” he finally managed. One side of Bull’s mouth pulled into an almost-smile at the sound of his haughty pique—even emotional as he was—but he didn’t open his eye.

“I gathered that much.”

“I was perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much. I had my impressive intelligence, my charming wit, my dashing good looks and my personal daring-do crusade to right all the stupid wrongs done by my impossibly dim-witted countrymen.” The words had started tumbling out in a rush and now Dorian couldn’t stop them, even if he wanted to. “And then _you_ had to come along and muck it all up!” He reached up and grabbed onto the leather strap that held Bull’s leather harness in place, yanking on it with all the futile hurt he had inside of him, the leather biting painfully into his fingers. He grit his teeth, glaring wetly at it. _“You made me love you,”_ he hissed softly, “and now how am I—!” Dorian suddenly let go with a dry sob and tore himself out of the qunari’s grasp. He scowled down into the water instead, swiping angrily at the wet tracks on his face. “How am I supposed to go on without you?”

“Who said you had to?” Bull questioned after a moment, cautious. Dorian snorted.

“What other course is there? You don’t love me, you can’t. Qunari don’t have relationships. You said so yourself,” he reminded the warrior somewhat bitterly. “Qunari don’t fuck people they care about.”

In the next breath Dorian was weightless, so thrown out of sorts from the suddenness of the maneuver that he didn’t even know what was happening until he found a wall of rock at his back and a wall of suddenly very angry qunari against his front. Bull held him there effortlessly, one hand gripping his hip and the other curled around his neck, keeping him still, secure. Keeping him controlled. Dorian cursed inwardly at the hot stab of pure _want_ that lanced his belly because of it. Damn him, Bull knew all of his buttons and apparently wasn’t above abusing them for his own ends.

_Once a Ben-Hassrath . . . ._

“You’re right, Dorian,” Bull ground out and the mage couldn’t help but wonder at the faint throb of hurt he thought he detected beneath the anger. “There are no personal relationships under the Qun, not like the _bas_ do. They _don’t_ feel love. Love is selfish. It’s a weakness.” When Dorian tried to wrench himself free the hand on his hip suddenly tightened in warning, with enough force to make him gasp and freeze again. He knew without looking that he’d have a bruise in the shape of Bull’s fingers come morning.

And really, that thought shouldn’t make him _nearly_ as hard as it did, damn it all.

“The Qunari don’t love, but _I_ am no longer of the Qun!” Bull suddenly growled hotly. “I am _Tal-Vashoth,_ I am the Iron fucking Bull and I’ll feel whatever the hell I damn well please!” Dorian was thrown all out of sorts at that, of course. What was he . . . did Bull mean what he thought he . . . ? “I don’t know how ‘relationships’ work,” the qunari mercenary admitted at length, his death-grip on Dorian’s hip loosening. His blunted claws started rubbing gentle—distracting—circles into the flesh instead.

“I don’t know what ‘love’ is,” Bull continued solemnly. “But what I _do_ know is that I like you, Dorian. _You_. I like the way you smell, I like the way you move. I like how wicked smart and gods-damned beautiful you are. I like how you wear your magic like a second-skin; all confident and proud and preening under all that power, and stronger than a force of fucking nature. I like how you’re a hellacious little brat most days, the way you sulk and pout when you don’t get your way. And I _really_ like the noises you make when I have you in my bed,” Bull continued relentlessly, voice dropping to an impossibly deep register and echoing through Dorian’s body like a roll of velvet thunder. The mage vaguely felt like he’d just been kicked in the teeth, struggling to remember how to breathe. Iron Bull just kept going, though, with not a shred of mercy left in him apparently. “All pretty and moaning and begging so sweet. How you let me take you apart, and then you let me put you back together again. But more than that I like that you pretend you’re just a selfish, stuck up noble prick when you’re actually the sweetest, most thoughtful guy I’ve ever known. Someone who’d give up the clothes on his back to a friend if they needed it, and never think twice about the loss. Is that love? I don’t know. I don’t really give a shit. But I _do_ know that I’ll be damned if I’ll let it go without a fight.”

Really. There was only one response he could give to all of that.

Dorian threw his arms around the larger man’s neck, surging up against the hold around his throat to crush his mouth against Bull’s in a somewhat frantic kiss. He didn’t have time to feel even a little bit ashamed of it though. Especially since the Bull let out a soft growling snarl of approval and kissed him back with as much—if not more—desperation than he himself seemed to be feeling. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, wet heat and pure, needy hunger. It went on for quite some time afterward. Both of them were properly winded by the time the tempest finally calmed enough for somewhat clear and rational thought.

Dorian found himself still pinioned to the rock wall with his legs curled as much as they could go around Bull’s waist. Both of the qunari’s hands were curled somewhat possessively around his rear now, half in support and half in wicked intent. Dorian stared at Bull with what was no doubt a stupid, stupid grin on his face but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care about it all that much.

“Well,” he murmured. “That was certainly . . . _enlightening.”_ Bull just chuckled and ‘hm-med’ at that, tilting his head to nip and bite at the sensitive flesh below Dorian’s ear. “Did you— _ah!_ —did you spend hours in front of a mirror practicing that speech? Because I’m flattered, truly.”

The hands on his ass flexed dangerously, causing tortuous friction against his aching erection now pressed between them and Dorian couldn’t bite back the groan that followed. “I’ll show you ‘flattered,’ _kadan,”_ was the qunari’s growling response.

Dorian swallowed a little at that though, lifting his head from where it had fallen rather boneless back against the rock. Should he? Well, today was a day for discovery, it would seem. Might as well jump in all the way. He cleared his throat, getting Bull’s attention away from leaving thrilling little love bites all along his neck—at least for the moment.

“Kadan?” he questioned then, only a faint tremor in his voice betraying the true weight of the question. “I’ll admit that my Qunlat is dreadfully lacking. Just what does that mean exactly?”

Bull just chuckled, of course seeing past the poor attempt at humor to the vulnerability beneath.

“I _thought_ it was weird that you never asked me before.”

Dorian’s eyebrow lifted when the answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming. A touch of his normal haughtiness returned when he finally demanded, “Well? And? Are you going to tell me you big lummox or just let me wonder on into eternity?”

Bull leaned in again, forehead nuzzling against Dorian’s once more before their mouths aligned and he breathed the answer against the mage’s trembling lips.

“Where the heart lies.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe one of these days I'll get up the nerve and know-how to write out a gay sex scene. Because these two are shameless and seem to demand it of me. Until now, enjoy the frustrating fade-to-black. Hope you liked my little drabble, thanks for reading!


End file.
